


Courtly Love

by Jenksel



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Casskins, F/M, Guilt, Making Up, Married Casskins, Quality Casskins Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 19:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15420387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenksel/pseuds/Jenksel
Summary: Jenkins has a guilty conscience over what happened to Cassandra in "Fallen Idols", but of course she knows just how to soothe his his troubled spirit...





	Courtly Love

The tall Caretaker bent over the open globe as he entered a set of coordinates into the back door mechanism and activated it.  The doors swung open silently, a large square of blue-white light glowing brightly.  At that same moment, Cassandra Cillian Jenkins entered the workroom, a stack of large, thick books in her arms.  Seeing the open door, she looked quizzically at her husband.

“Jenkins?  Are you going somewhere?”  The large man moved quickly across the room and took the books from her arms, depositing them onto a nearby table.  He then took her hand.

“Ah! Cassandra!  Your timing couldn’t be better!” he announced briskly as he ushered her across the floor.  “I managed to finagle an appointment for you at the Mayo Clinic.  But we _must_ go right now or we’ll lose it...”  Cassandra stopped dead in her tracks and yanked her hand out of his.

“ _The Mayo Clinic_?” she yelped.  She closed her eyes briefly for a moment, her fists clenched at her sides, and took a deep breath before opening them again warily.  “Why-y-y?”

“Because you’ve been ill, of course,” he replied, confused by her question.  “I’ve been doing some research on the internet—with Mr. Jones’s help, I must confess—and I’ve discovered that your symptoms could indicate the very early stages of any number of alarming maladies!  I thought it prudent to have you see the best doctors available as soon as possible.  It’s always best to catch these things early!”

Cassandra stared at in him for a moment before face-palming herself.  Ever since her kidnapping and the incident with Bedivere, Jenkins had become increasingly clingy over the last few weeks, hovering over her like a mother hen, constantly checking up on her, never letting her leave the Annex alone.  She could hardly go to the bathroom by herself anymore without her Caretaker-husband anxiously rushing to find her after a few minutes. The latest chapter came when she had woken up earlier in the week with a cold, and Jenkins’s hyper-protectiveness was now in overdrive, making him almost unbearable.

“Honestly, sweetheart,” she began, waving her hands in exasperation.  “I’m not _that_ sick, it’s just a little summer cold, it’s no big deal!  You don’t have to fuss over me like this!”

“Nonsense!” he retorted.  “What starts off as a ‘little summer cold’ can very easily turn into something _far_ more serious!  Such as...walking pneumonia, or tuberculosis!  Or...or...polio!”  He extended one long finger at her, shaking it gently in reproof.

“It’s far better to be safe than sorry!  Besides,” he continued, slightly uneasy.  “I remember very clearly from the other timeline what it feels like to be sick, even with just a cold.  If I can ease that discomfort for you in any way, then I want to do so.”

“ _Polio_??” the redhead repeated, incredulous.  “ _Seriously_?”  Jenkins frowned and waved his hand in dismissal.

“Unlikely, I grant, but I think it only wise to err on the side of caution, that’s all.”  Cassandra cocked an irritated head at her husband.

“Yeah, ‘cause how many times have you seen a cold actually turn into polio?” she asked acidly.

“We really do need to get going, my dear,” he said, ignoring her remark and taking her hand again.  “Doctor Hillenbrand is waiting for us.”  He turned around to face her again, and after taking a quick glance around the workroom to make sure they were alone, leaned down and whispered.  “I hope you’re prepared to give a urine sample...?”

Cassandra snatched her hand free a second time.  “That’s _it_!” she exploded.  “I’ve had _enough_!”  Planting her hands on her hips, the Librarian glared up into the man’s startled brown eyes.

“Now you listen to me, Galahad Jenkins!  I am _not_ going to the Mayo Clinic!  I do _not_ have polio!  I have a _cold_ —just a plain, simple, garden-variety cold!  I _don’t_ need you to baby me.  I _don’t_ need you to fuss over me.  And I _certainly_ don’t need you follow me around all the time like...like...like the freaking Secret Service or something!  Because you are just driving me _crazy_!”

Before Jenkins could formulate an appropriately acerbic rebuttal, the angry woman spun on her heel and stomped from the room, her long red curls bouncing furiously behind her.  Without stopping or turning around, she raised a warning hand high into the air and shouted.

“I’m going to the bedroom now, and don’t you _dare_ follow me!  I want to be _alone_!  A-L-O-N-E!  _Alone_!”

The Caretaker watched her storm off, a large, knot of shame forming in his gut.  He turned and slowly went over to the door mechanism to shut it down.  As the doors darkened and swung closed, he sighed heavily, shoulders slumping, head dropping.  He stared at his perfectly polished black shoes for a moment, then jerked his head up and squared his shoulders.

“I need a cup of tea,” he said out loud to himself, then strode purposefully in the direction of the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Cassandra slammed the bedroom door shut behind her, stripping off everything but her undergarments as she crossed the room.  She threw herself into the huge, soft bed and burrowed underneath the blankets, pulling them up to cover her head entirely except for her nose and mouth.

 _I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that!_ she thought, full of remorse by now, her anger having cooled quickly.  _I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that, he was just trying to help._

She laid there for some time, the unpleasant scene playing over again in her mind, her emotions vacillating between irritation and understanding.  He may have been just trying to help, but what on earth was he thinking, making an appointment with the _Mayo Clinic_?  For a _cold_!  Why was he _so_ protective all of a sudden?  He’d always been protective of her, of course, but this— _this_ was bordering on paranoia.  She went through her memories, trying to pin down the time when this had all started, and suddenly she realized that it had begun not long after she was kidnapped by the cultists.  His insistence on knowing where she was every minute of the day, his insistence on accompanying her every single time she left the Annex, the hypervigilance of their surroundings wherever they were, even while inside the Annex—it all made some sense now.  He was afraid for her safety.

Cassandra burrowed further into the blankets, huffing loudly in frustration as she pulled them completely over her head.  _I have to go and talk to Jenkins about this_ , she thought unhappily.  _I have to apologize to him._

There was a light tapping on the heavy bedroom door.  Her head still covered, Cassandra heard the sound of the large brass knob turning, then the heavy, familiar tread of her husband as he walked to her side of the bed.

Jenkins set the cup and saucer he was carrying on the nightstand, the china faintly chattering as it landed.  He paused a moment to look down at the woman hiding in the bed, a massive thing of ancient walnut, sized to fit Jenkins’s large frame.  It dwarfed his petite wife, her slight form barely distinguishable beneath the bedding as it swallowed her.

“May I come in?” he asked.  He hesitantly reached out to touch the small lump huddled under the covers, but pulled his hand back at the last second.  There was a note of hopefulness in his voice.  “I brought you some tea.”

Cassandra couldn’t help but smile to herself in the darkness.  There didn’t seem to be any problem or conflict in her husband’s world that couldn’t be fixed with a nice cup of tea.

She threw the blankets from off of her head and rolled over to face him.  Seeing his worried expression, she smiled at him, and his heart leaped in his chest to know that she was no longer angry with him.  Cassandra pushed herself into a sitting position, then held her arms out to him.

“Come here,” she invited, her tone conciliatory.  Taking a deep, silent breath in relief, the tall man dropped onto the edge of the bed next her and leaned into her arms.  His own long limbs slid around her and pulled her to his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said, murmuring into his ear.  “I know you mean well and I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.  But I’m worried about you and your obsession with me all of a sudden; are you okay?”

Jenkins withdrew from her and sat back so that he could see her face.  He gazed on her flawless features, reaching out to absently run a strand of her soft, curling russet hair through his fingers, disquieting thoughts again chasing each other through his mind like restless spirits.

He shuddered abruptly in trepidation.  Jenkins had never loved anyone like this before, not even Charlene, and sometimes the intensity of his feelings for Cassandra frightened him.  All of those years he had spent studiously avoiding contact and attachments with other people, isolating himself as much as he possibly could, insulating himself against the inevitable pain and disappointment that came with relationships of all kinds—it all evaporated the second Cassandra walked through the doors of the Annex.  How had he come to love her _so_ deeply in so short of time?  In less than four years he had gone from completely resigned to an eternity in solitude and loneliness to actually being _Sealed_ with another person, bound together now for that same eternity.  He didn’t regret that decision in the least, but now there were new thoughts that continually gnawed at the back of his mind, almost all of them being questions about what he was going to do without her when her time finally came.

All that Cassandra could see of his thoughts was a shadow flit through his brown eyes before vanishing, hidden behind the mask of stoicism that immediately fell over his features at her question.  He dropped his gaze to the space between them.  

“I’m sorry as well,” he said repentantly.  “I didn’t mean to be so overbearing.”  He began to distractedly fuss with the cuffs of his shirt.  His wife recognized the stalling tactic, and she waited patiently until he was ready to speak about what was bothering him.

“It’s just that sometimes, when I think about the fact that someday you’ll...that someday we’ll be...that the day will come when I...outlive you...”  His voice trailed off, unable to say anymore.

Cassandra’s shoulders dropped slightly as she realized what he was trying to express.

“Jenkins, honey...” she said, taking his fidgeting hands into hers and squeezing them.  “I know you’re worried whenever I get sick or get hurt on a mission or something like that,” she said softly.  “But you don’t have to be.  I’m not going anywhere.  If anything serious comes along...well, that’s what doctors and hospitals and magic are for.”

“And if it’s something a doctor can’t cure?” he replied, his voice flat as he kept a clamp on his emotions.  “Something that not even magic can put to rights again?”  With a small sigh, Cassandra pulled her hands away from his and held his face between them.

“Let’s not cross that bridge until we come to it, okay?  _If_ we even come to it at all,” she said.  “We can’t let ‘what if’s’ hang over our heads like a big black cloud.  I lived under that cloud when I had that tumor in my head, and I _don’t_ want to go back to living like again, especially not with you.”  Jenkins covered her hands with his own, a stricken look crossing his face.

“Forgive me, Cassandra,” he said earnestly after a moment, looking her in the eyes.  “I’ve been so caught up in my own thoughts that I completely disregarded _your_ perspective!”  He dropped his gaze, pulling her hands down from his face and holding onto them tightly.  He gently shook his head at his selfishness.

“You have your whole life ahead of you now, an entire lifetime of experiences to look forward to and memories to make, and here I am—the prophet of doom.”

The Librarian looked at him closely, studying his expression.  Her gut told her there was something deeper going on here, or perhaps it was their special Tree bond trying to tell her something.  Either way, something told her that she needed to get to the bottom of it.

“What’s this all really about, sweetie?” she asked gently, laying a small hand on his cheek.  “Something’s been bothering you for the last few weeks, and I get the feeling it’s not just about me catching a cold or me dying someday, either. What are you trying to protect me from?”  He lifted his eyes to hers, hesitating.

“Sweetheart, please,” she urged him.  “Tell me what’s going on?  Maybe I can help.”  Jenkins dropped his eyes again, shamefaced.

“I feel so ashamed of myself, I’m filled with so much guilt,” he said finally, voice low.  “And I’m so sorry.”

“Why?  What for?  What are you sorry for?” she asked, lightly holding his hands as she tried to coax the whole story out of her reticent husband.

He suddenly straightened his spine and lifted his head, his expression one of resolve, but he still couldn’t look her in the eye.

“I failed you,” he said firmly, like a prisoner making a final statement before his execution.  “I failed you as a knight, as a Caretaker, as your...as your husband.  I failed to keep you safe from harm, I failed to protect you from danger.”  His steady voice rapidly deteriorated as he spoke, becoming more and more emotional with each word.

“I _never_ should have let you go into Portland alone that day; in fact, I should’ve anticipated all along that something like this might happen to you or one of the others, and I should’ve gone with you.  If I had been there with you, _none_ of that awful day would’ve happened!  But I was too focused on my work that day—I put _that_ before you and your safety, and that is simply unforgivable!”  His hands suddenly tightened around hers painfully as his voice began to break.

“I am so sorry, Cassandra, _so very_ sorry!  My selfishness and my stupidity nearly cost you your life!  We have so little time together as it is, and...”  Jenkins suddenly snapped his mouth shut as he realized what he was about to say.  The Librarian cocked her head a little, confusion beginning to mix with the kindness already on her face.

“And so now you’re trying to make up for it by being super-protective because you don’t want me to die too soon?” she said, shaking her head.  She looked up again as an inspiration struck her, and spoke softly as she gaped at him with wide, blue eyes.

“You don’t want me to die at all!  You’re afraid of your life will be like after I’m gone, aren’t you?”

When he dropped his head and remained stoically silent, she knew then that she had struck the root of the problem.  She sat quietly for a few minutes, somewhat shocked at the revelation.

“I wish I had something to say that would make you feel better, but I just don’t have anything,” she said kindly.  “Someday I’ll _have_ to go, and I wish with all my heart that I knew how to make that day and everything after it easier for you, sweetheart, but I don’t.  I just…don’t, at least not now.”  Jenkins gave a tiny nod of his head.

“I know,” he said, barely audible.  “It’s something I have to make peace with by myself.”  Cassandra put her hand on his cheek.

“And what happened that day is not your fault!  They would’ve just waited for another opportunity...”

“I’m trying to protect you from myself just as much as I’m trying to protect you from everything else!” he blurted angrily in self-recrimination.  The unbidden image of Bedivere lewdly pawing his terrified wife flashed through the ancient Caretaker’s mind, and he shuddered.  “I’m your _husband_ , it’s _my_ responsibility to keep you safe.  I shouldn’t have been focused on my work that morning…!”

“Your work had nothing to do with it!  You _can’t_ protect me from everything, sweetie—immortal knight or not, you just can’t!” she answered him.  “You had no way of knowing what was going to happen, you have to stop blaming yourself.  You’ll make yourself squirrely if you keep blaming and second-guessing yourself!  And this relationship only has room for _one_ squirrel, and that’s _me_!”  That teased a tiny smile from the unhappy immortal.

“You _didn’t_ fail me,” she said, pressing her advantage.  She put her hand beneath his chin and forced him to look up at her as she spoke.

“The _only_ way you could’ve failed me is if you had let them have me and do whatever they wanted, if you hadn’t lifted a finger to even _try_ to help me.  But you came for me; Eve told me all about it, how upset you were, how determined you were to get to me.”   Jenkins snorted softly, a humorless smirk coming to his lips,

“And even _then_ I failed you,” he said bitterly.  “ _You_ ended up having to rescue your rescuer, as well as yourself.”  He stared at her with dark, sad eyes, laid his hand on her cheek.

“I want you to be able to trust me, Cassandra, to be able to depend on me.  I want you to feel _safe_ with me.  I know it’s old-fashioned thinking, I know we’ve been through this already, but it’s important to me that you know that I will _always_ be there for you.”  He dropped his head.

“But perhaps that’s just another selfish need on my part, too—to feel like I’m your only true protector.  I just hope that someday you’ll be able to forgive me for what happened to you!”  He shook his white head.  “Relationships seem so confusing these days compared to when I was a young man...”  Cassandra burst into soft giggles at that, and he looked up sharply, frowning.

“Sweetie, that’s because most women don’t need to be rescued from locked towers or damsel-eating dragons anymore!”  Cassandra slipped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down so that his forehead touched hers.

“All I need rescuing from now are mostly flat tires on the side of the road and spiders in the bathroom.”  She began stroking the hair on the back of his head.  “And if I ever _do_ need rescuing from things like crazy, blood-thirsty cultists again, I _know_ in my heart that you’ll _always_ be the first one through the door.”

Cassandra moved her arms around her husband’s large frame to give him a tight hug.  “You know that I forgive you, sweetheart.”  In her mind, he had nothing to ask forgiveness for, but she knew that he needed to hear her say the words.

“Have I told you yet today how much I love you, Galahad?” she murmured.  Jenkins responded by gratefully wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling in relief.

“You don’t really expect me to rescue you from spiders, do you?” he whispered.  “Because those nasty little buggers _really_ freak me out...”  He shivered dramatically against her.  Cassandra laughed; everything was going to be all right now.  Making a happy little humming sound of contentment, she snuggled against his shoulder.

Jenkins, glad to have gotten at least part of his burden off of his shoulders, affectionately nuzzled the side of her face until his lips were next to her ear.  He suddenly began to sing to her, barely above a whisper, his rich baritone voice tripping easily over the complicated notes like a flitting swallow.

Cassandra smiled, and almost said something, but then held her tongue.  She kept still so as not to disrupt this impromptu serenade; it was the first time Jenkins had sung to her like this since her birthday last year, and she was afraid he would stop if she interrupted him.  Though the words were in a language she didn’t understand, she could tell by its arrangement that it was a very old song, and she knew without question that he was singing of his love for her.  Her heart filled with so much love for him in return that it literally ached within her.

She rested against her husband, her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of his natural musk, tinged slightly with his citrusy cologne, as he continued to sing for the next several minutes, his voice catching slightly with emotion toward the end.  When he was finished, he tenderly kissed her temple and cuddled her close to him.

“That was beautiful, Galahad,” she whispered.  “What do the words mean?”

“It’s only an old medieval troubadour song about courtly love,” he answered as she snuggled into his arms.  “A knight telling his lady how much he loves her.”  The Librarian smiled against his chest.

“Oh, how sweet!  Tell me what some of the lyrics are, in English,” she asked.  “Just a stanza or two?”  Jenkins squirmed just a bit then, uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure that I should,” he replied somewhat nervously.  “I must confess that, like most troubadour songs, it’s not one that’s exactly…wholesome.  I don’t want to ruin the moment for you.”

“Oh, now you _have_ to tell me!” she laughed.  “You can’t tease me like that and then not tell me anything!”  Jenkins hesitated for a second, then took a breath and plunged ahead.

“The song consists of a knight telling his beloved how much he loves her, how he can’t stop thinking about her, how her love feeds and sustains him like a banquet of fine delicacies set out before a starving beggar.”  He paused for a moment, cleared his throat.

“The song then goes on to describe her various…attributes, comparing them to different items typically found at a feast in those days.”  Cassandra pushed herself back from him just enough to be able to look into his face.

“Like what?” she asked curiously.  “Give me an example!”  A tiny, mischievous smile came to his lips.

“He begins by comparing her lips to ripe cherries,” he said softly.  “Because they’re so plump, and red and tempting, and that kissing them is more intoxicating than the finest of Spanish wines.”  He eased forward, his lips barely brushing hers at first.  He suddenly moved in closer, stealing a brief but ardent kiss from Cassandra before parting, leaving her breathless and flushed.

“He next compares her breasts to apples.”  Jenkins brought one hand forward to timidly grasp and squeeze one of her breasts, slowly rubbing his thumb over its nipple through the thin satin of her bra and bringing it instantly to a hard bud.

“He says that they’re firmer, sweeter, juicier than the best apples of Normandy.”  He gently pushed her against the headboard, one hand pushing her bra off of her breasts at the same time, just enough to allow him to press his lips to the erect nipple, slipping it quickly between his teeth to tease it further with the tip of his tongue and lips.  A small gasp escaped from Cassandra’s lips, the sound setting his desire aflame.  He released the tender flesh and kissed both of her breasts softly, reverently, before moving away from her.

“He then compares her belly to the finest bread,” he said, his voice low and seductive now.  Emboldened now, he eased onto all fours and straddled Cassandra as she slid onto her back beneath him, taking a moment to quickly remove her bra first.  He moved down so that he was positioned over her stomach.  He barely brushed her skin with the fingernails of one hand, tiny goosebumps appearing in their wake as a shiver went through her body.

“So soft and smooth and fine, pleasing to the touch as well as to the taste.”  Jenkins lowered his head and planted little kisses all around her abdomen and hips, his tongue darting out periodically to lick and tickle the soft, sensitive area, making her moan and giggle, her laughter like the tinkling of chimes to his ears.

When he raised his head again, Cassandra could see the very familiar hunger burning in his dark eyes.  Glancing down, she saw his manhood was already pressing against his trousers.  She flicked her eyes back to his, and smiled coyly as she ran her hands up his long arms and over his shoulders and chest.

Though the knight’s body ached to continue, he hesitated, not sure that it was appropriate to follow this unexpected tryst through to its natural conclusion.  They hadn’t been intimate for some days now; Jenkins had been rebuffing all of her advances out of shame.  He didn’t deserve such a woman after what had almost happened—how Cassandra could even bear the sight him now, let alone allow him to touch her so intimately, Jenkins couldn’t begin to understand.  Cassandra saw the self-reproach in his eyes, and reached out to brush her fingers along his jawline.

“What comes next?” she prodded, her tone encouraging.  His hesitation crumbled.

“Next comes her secret place,” he said, his voice becoming raspy, his smoldering eyes fixed on hers.  His hand wandered leisurely down the side of her exquisite body, over the gentle curving of her hip and along her thigh as he spoke, eventually finding its way to her sex.  Cassandra quickly pushed her panties down and carefully kicked them away, then parted her thighs slightly so he could have access to her, while a warm thrill melted through her entire length.

“He compares it to a comb of wild honey—rich, sweet, and irresistible,” Jenkins continued, slowly rubbing between her legs, carefully placing his hand so that his long middle finger teased her increasingly firming clit.  Lowering his head, he kissed the plumpest part of her belly, giving her a light nip afterward as he continued to rub her.  Cassandra whimpered softly and closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his hand on her.

“The knight then begs his lady for a taste of her honey,” he rumbled provocatively.  Cassandra opened her blue eyes wide and looked directly into his.

“What was her answer?” she asked breathlessly.  Her heart was thudding against her ribs, her body burning, yearning for her own knight to taste her.

“Ah!” he said sadly while continuing to fondle her.  “She was cruel to her lover, and she denied him!”  He casually slipped two of his fingers into her, causing Cassandra to gasp and arch her lower back ever so slightly.  Jenkins leaned up and kissed her breast again, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips searched for the nipple.  When he found it, he stroked her from within as he ravenously sucked and tickled the lovely pink nub.  The sound of his wife’s quickening pants and soft groans only served to whet his hunger for her even more.  He felt himself stiffening rapidly, his manhood beginning to throb and aching to enter her.  Jenkins released her nipple, nuzzled her soft, warm breast.

“Would you treat me so cruelly, my love, if I begged a taste of _your_ honey?” he asked softly, pure, raw lust burning in his eyes when Cassandra opened her own and looked at him.

“Of course not,” she whispered, laying one small hand against his smooth, flushed cheek.  “Would you like to have a taste right now?”  Grinning wickedly, Jenkins turned his face and kissed the palm of her hand.

“With every fiber of my being!” he growled excitedly, drawing more giggles from the redhead.  Cassandra parted her legs even further in silent invitation.  Without a moment’s hesitation Jenkins was there, his mouth on her ‘honeycomb’ and kissing her, his impatient, hot tongue dipping deeply into her again and again.

Cassandra cried out at the exquisite sensation.  Her back arched involuntarily as he strove to go even more deeply into her.  He found her swollen clit and besieged it without pity, flicking and sucking it with his tongue, nibbling it with his lips, drawing her ever closer to the edge.  She loudly, raggedly gasped in pleasure, her words begging him not to stop.  She clutched fistfuls of his silvery hair, refusing to allow him to remove himself from her even if he had wanted to.  Jenkins replaced a hand on her breast and began to squeeze it gently while he continued to devour her sex.

It proved to be the final push she needed.  With a shriek of his name, her orgasm swallowed her like a thick cloud, her synesthesia-jumbled senses tumbling and churning and pulsating colorfully around her as wave after wave washed over her.  She thrust her hips upward and against his mouth, her fingers painfully pulling his hair as they curled into tight fists.

The pain only spurred him on, and rather than release her, Jenkins continued his onslaught, relentlessly nipping, sucking and probing her nether regions, feral growls of enjoyment rumbling deep in his throat as he enticed a second, less intense climax from Cassandra.  She moaned loudly, helpless to stop him, and panting his name the entire time.  Jenkins continued to gorge his lust for her until a third, faint cresting finally rippled gently through her body.  She dropped, limp, against the mattress, her breath coming in rasping gasps, her eyes squeezed shut as she let herself float mindlessly on the weakening currents of her bliss.

By now Jenkins was rock-hard, burning to enter her.  He moved upward over her pale body, leaving a trail of love bites as he went, until his lips were next to her ear.

“There’s another who hungers for your sweetness,” he breathed huskily, covering her throat and chest with eager, open-mouth kisses, his breath hot against her skin.  “Will you deny him?”  Cassandra slid her arms into his coat and around her husband, dragged her hands up and down his back and sides.

Opening her eyes, she looked directly into his, found them glittering with unadulterated, savage want.  She found his hand and pulled it to her lips.  As she held his gaze she kissed each fingertip, then went back to his index finger and licked it, then slowly sucked on it.  Jenkins dropped his head, a sharp intake of air hissing through his clenched teeth at the excruciatingly delicious torture she was inflicting on him.  It took every scrap of his self-discipline to maintain control of himself.

“Cassandra, please!” he gasped raggedly, begging her as he raised his head again, his eyes tightly shut.  “Please!”

Cassandra smiled as she trailed one hand down his body and slid it between them, unexpectedly grasping his engorged manhood through the soft fabric of his pants.  He gave a hoarse sob at her touch, but otherwise remained silent, patiently waiting for her to give permission for him to enter her.  He was easily twice her size and weight, he was strong as an ox—Jenkins could overpower her any time he pleased, yet he always waited for her permission.  She wasn’t sure why, but it thrilled the Librarian to know that if she ever told him ‘no’, even at this very moment, he would stop, simply out of love and respect for her.  Cassandra smiled at that thought, but of course she could never be so cruel, not to this man who loved her _that_ much.

“Come, Galahad,” she whispered, blue eyes blazing like lightening as she parted her long, slim legs for him.  “Take me.”

Jenkins, now free to act, took control.  He scrambled out of bed and stripped his suit off, throwing the expensive clothes away as though they were on fire.  Cassandra watched him undress, drinking in the sight as more and more of his beautiful body was revealed.  When he finally freed his erect manhood, she trembled eagerly in anticipation.

The bold, almost challenging look in her eyes as she stared at him was like a red flag to a bull.  The immortal clambered back into the bed and got to his knees.  He reached out and grasped Cassandra by the hips and effortlessly flipped the squealing Librarian over onto her stomach.

“Up!” he ordered brusquely.  She knew what he wanted, and so she rose onto her hands and knees, preparing herself for what was to come.

He roughly parted her thighs, then paused for a moment.  He pressed his genitals against her, making her whimper.  He ran his large hands appreciatively over her soft, smooth flesh.  He bent over her and left a tingling trail of kisses all the way down her spine, his warm palms stroking her hips and thighs.  He straightened, his hands lingering on her buttocks to squeeze them slowly.    One hand slid forward and between her legs, began rubbing her wet, pulsing sex again.  Cassandra moaned and dropped weakly to her elbows, presenting herself to him.

Jenkins tightly grasped her hip with the other hand.  He moved forward, guiding himself to her entrance and immediately pushed himself into her, a rasping sigh of pleasure escaping him as he finally felt her silky, slippery warmth envelope him.

He leaned over her back, sliding his hands over her arms until they covered her small ones.  His mouth was next to her ear as his powerful hips began to thrust into her, rapidly picking up speed.  Cassandra raised her hips upward as far as she could to meet him, wanting to feel his long, hard shaft plunging as deeply into her as possible.  _God_ , how she loved the feel of him moving inside of her, loved the feel of his huge, strong body moving above hers, his belly moving along her back!  He worried so much that she wouldn’t feel safe with him, but how could she _not_ feel safe with a man like him?  A man who worried over her and cared for her, who tenderly loved her as selflessly as he did, who held her and caressed her and made love to her as passionately as her Galahad did?

Jenkins drove himself into her relentlessly, thrusting as hard as he could and grimacing with the effort, a feral rumble in his throat as the entire world melted away, the only reality for him at this moment being the place where he and his true love were physically joined.  He began to kiss and bite her neck and shoulders, grunting like an animal as he rushed toward his release.

“Galahad!  Oh, _God_ , Galahad—take me!” she moaned as he rocked hard against her, panting and groaning her name over and over.   Cassandra put a hand back to grasp the back of his neck, clutching it tightly and whispering over and over how much she loved and wanted him.  Her upraised arm exposed her breast, and Jenkins immediately grabbed it, massaging and rubbing the firm globe, almost painfully, as he continued to ram himself into her.

It didn’t take long for the lusty knight to plummet head-first over the edge and into a blinding pool of ecstasy.  He shouted wordlessly in triumph as his member pulsed violently within her, filling her with his seed, the grimace on his face smoothing into a wide grin of pure joy.  He fell groaning on top of her, his huge frame pinning hers beneath him.  He quickly scooped her into his arms and rolled them both onto their sides, his body spooning comfortably against hers as he remained inside of her.  One strong arm wrapped itself around her waist to hold her tightly in place.  He rubbed the side of her head dizzily with his cheek, murmuring endearments to her in his native tongue.

“ _Fy nghariad!  Fy trysor!  Fy mrenhines!  Dw i’n dy garu di yn fawr!_ ”

Thanks to regular Welsh lessons with Jacob, she could understand now what he was saying to her, and she smiled.  She was his love, his treasure, his queen, and he loved her, so very much.  Cassandra snuggled her slim body against her husband’s broad chest; she could feel his heart beating in his chest, feel the air glide almost silently in and out of his lungs.

“I think I like your courtly love songs,” she sighed contentedly as she draped her arms on top of his.  “You’ll have to sing to me again soon!”  Jenkins grinned and buried his nose in her hair, breathing in deeply her sweet, delicate scent.

“You’ve brought so much light into my life,” he whispered softly, switching back to English.  “So much love and beauty and joy; how I bless the day that brought you to the Library!”

“Ha!  But you were so _grumpy_ those first few months!” she teased, laughing quietly at the memory.  The smile faded from her lips and, unseen by Jenkins, sadness clouded her face.

“But that was only because you’ve been hurt so much by others in the past,” she mused.  “So many betrayed you, and your trust.  They were so cruel to you.  It’s no wonder you didn’t want anything to do with us.  I would’ve been grumpy, too, if I had been you.”  She felt his muscles tense slightly for a moment, then felt them relax again.

“You’re right, my love, I _was_ afraid,” he admitted.  “And for exactly those reasons.  I just didn’t have the strength or the courage to go through it all again.”  He kept silent about the biggest reason he hadn’t wanted any of them around:  He didn’t want to get attached to them, didn’t want to love and care for any of them, only to watch them die, whether by mishap or old age, it didn’t matter.  He certainly hadn’t wanted to fall _in_ love with any of them.  Jenkins smiled wryly to himself.  _So much for that plan!_ he thought.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave,” he said to her instead.  “I’m glad you ignored my ‘grumpiness’, and that you didn’t give up on me.  I can’t even imagine my life, now, without you in it.”  He stroked her hair with one hand and tightened his arm around her.  Cassandra wriggled around in his arms until she could easily look into his face.  She leaned in to kiss his mouth softly, barely grazing his lower lip with her small teeth, then leaned back to look into his dark, soulful eyes, her fingers sliding into his silver hair.

“ _A dych chi’n fy marchog mewn arforgaeth disglair_.”  The words, unfamiliar to her, were pronounced slowly, clumsily, but he understood her perfectly:  He was her knight in shining armor.

“ _Am byth_ , _fy nghariad_ ,” he replied, pulling her head to him for a longer, slower, deeper kiss, a lovers’ kiss.

 _Always_ , _my love._

* * *

 

As his wife slept peacefully by his side, Jenkins asked himself the same questions that had plagued him since he admitted his feelings for Cassandra to himself years earlier.

_What will you do when she dies?  How can you possibly go on without her?_

The immortal shoved the questioning thoughts away with a silent sigh, trying and failing not to entertain them.  Cassandra’s kidnapping by Bedivere had scared Jenkins badly, bringing into sharp focus just how fragile their earthly union was.  They were Sealed, true, and because of that bond they would be together forever in spirit while one of them lived, and reunited in whatever form of afterlife awaited them.

But if he remained immortal and she remained mortal, how many centuries—how many _millennia_ —would they be parted until he finally, _somehow_ , was able to join her?  Jenkins was normally content to let Nature or Fate or whatever take its course in most matters, but not in this one.  The longer they were together, the more deeply he fell in love with her, and the less tolerable was the idea of living without her.

There were only two possible options that he could see:  Either they both die at the same time, or Cassandra becomes immortal.

The Caretaker held his beloved closer to himself, her warm, soft skin feeling like silk against his body as he meditated on the situation.  A third, dark option suddenly presented itself.

_The Library has Koschi’s Needle now; I can take my own life if no other solution was available by the time her death comes ..._

Cassandra stirred, whining faintly in her sleep for a moment, as though his horrible thought had worked its way into her dreams and disturbed her.  Jenkins instantly pushed the malignant idea from his mind before it could take root; he knew that Cassandra would be hurt and disappointed in him for even thinking such a thing.  The Librarian quietly settled back into her visions of living happily ever after with her Galahad.  Her knight softly kissed her hair, his eyes closing as he listened to her quiet breathing.

Jenkins swore a solemn oath in the depths of his heart that night:  He would begin immediately to work on finding a solution to the problem of their disparate lifespans.  Until then, he would live his life with Cassandra one day at a time, enjoying each one and sharing it with her as fully and unselfishly as he could.  He decided not to say anything to Cassandra about his plan yet; he didn’t want to get her hopes up only to be disappointed in the end if he should fail, but he was prepared to move Heaven and Earth if he had to in order to find that solution.

He swore it on his honor as a knight of the Round Table.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, as always! :-)


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